


Christmas in Midtown

by ThirdGenerationRockette



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Christmas fic, F/M, Fluff, s2 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 12:07:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13810860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirdGenerationRockette/pseuds/ThirdGenerationRockette
Summary: Glancing around again, his gaze lands on a bench on the other side of the fountain, and for a second he thinks he's hallucinating, because she's in London, or on her way to London, or he thought she was. There's no mistaking her though, he knows her face like he knows his own; the curve of her lips, her high cheekbones, her bright eyes and dark lashes, and he's paralysed by the realisation that she's sitting just feet from him when he thought she was thousands of miles away.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, in _My True Love Gave to Me_ , I wrote that Will and Mac had both lied in 2011 about where they were spending Christmas...Mac assumed Will was going to be with Nina so told him she was going to London, while Will had told Nina he was spending Christmas with his sisters. Seemed ripe for an AU where each finds out that the other is in fact in the city...

It isn't really his intended destination, but he's not an idiot, he knows he's heading for Washington Square Park because of Mackenzie. He remembers the weekend they spent in the city just before their first Christmas together, a perfect weekend out of DC, away from work, in a city that does Christmas like no other, and for someone who loves Christmas like Mackenzie does it was perfect. They did all the typical things, all the things a New York tourist in December has to do; Rockefeller Center, Radio City, Central Park, but it was the slightly more understated tree in Washington Square Park that captivated her, his always unpredictable Mackenzie.

He remembers holding her hand, feeling her fingers entwined with his as they walked through the park and she gazed in admiration up at the tree. He remembers her turning to him and smiling, dragging him to a bench so she could sit and admire it some more, her hand still tightly clasped in his. Stopping, he looks at this year's tree, fitting perfectly under the arch, as ever, and he decides to sit for a while. If he's honest with himself, the reason he's here at just after eleven in the morning on Christmas Eve is because it seemed way too early to open a beer and commence the holiday wallowing.

He wonders where Mackenzie is now...halfway across the Atlantic, he guesses, on her way to see her parents, the parents who made him so instantly welcome the first time she took him to London that it baffled him. She had taken him aside the day after they arrived and told him to relax, they were welcoming him simply because they liked him, and because he was making her happy. He'd give anything to be the one making her happy still, to watch the smile light up her face the way it used to. What he needs to do is to just stop trying to fucking hurt her.

Sighing, he looks around and sees the usual New York mix of people; tourists, locals, dogs being walked, over-excited kids in hats and gloves, and a couple of others like him, sitting alone, quietly observing. He's confident enough that in his hat and with his scarf pulled right up he's going unrecognised, unnoticed, and he's glad of it, of the chance to just sit and watch the city pass him by for a while. Glancing around again, his gaze lands on a bench on the other side of the fountain, and for a second he thinks he's hallucinating, because she's in London, or on her way to London, or he thought she was. There's no mistaking her though, he knows her face like he knows his own; the curve of her lips, her high cheekbones, her bright eyes and dark lashes, and he's paralysed by the realisation that she's sitting just feet from him when he thought she was thousands of miles away.

He stares at her, unable to pull his eyes away, watching as she turns to where two little boys are playing, both wearing blue hats, both giggling, and he sees her smiling softly in their direction until their parents move them along and her attention returns to the tree. Taking a deep breath, he stands, walks over to the bench she's on, and sits down beside her.

“Aren't you meant to be in London right now?” he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets, wondering how he managed to put on a hat and scarf but fail to think of gloves at all.

“Will?” She turns and looks at him, her eyes wide with surprise, her glance shifting past him slightly. “Are you, um...is Nina not with you?”

“No,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “That's done, over, we broke up a week ago. I'm not actually sure what the fuck I was thinking, if I'm honest. So yeah, no, I'm here alone.”

“Right.” She seems to relax and he has a sense of what she may have been feeling about him dating Nina, and a pang of something that feels a lot like guilt runs through him. Crazy, really, but it is what it is. “I'd say I'm sorry, but you know...”

“Yeah.” He sighs and looks ahead, a small dog in a red coat catching his eye as it walks ahead of its owner, and randomly he wonders if dogs even know they're wearing coats, and if so, whether they would object if they could. “Why are you here?”

“Last I checked, this was a public park,” she says, her tone telling him he worded that as badly as he suspected he had. “Meaning I have as much right to sit on a bench and admire the Christmas tree as anyone else.”

“Why aren't you in London?” He clarifies, waiting to see if she'll turn her attention back to him. She doesn't. “That's what I meant.”

“Oh, you know...” She shrugs, and no, he doesn't know, and he isn't sure she does either. “I decided it wasn't really worth it just for a couple of days, I figured I may as well just stay in the city, take a couple of days off, eat chocolates, drink, whatever.”

“We flew to London and stayed a grand total of thirty-two hours for your dad's birthday,” he says, watching as she finally does look at him, noticing the pink in her cheeks from sitting out in the cold. “So I'm not sure I'm buying that.”

“I'm not asking you to _buy_ anything,” she replies, her tone bordering on irritated. “I'm not in London, obviously, I'm here for Christmas and that's that.”

“Right.” He nods and they fall silent, a weighted, not entirely comfortable silence.

“Did she dump you because there wasn't a big diamond under the Christmas tree?” She breaks the quiet, but she doesn't look at him, her eyes instead firmly aimed at the arch ahead of them, at the tree.

“That was never going to happen,” he says, unable to imagine anything less likely than him putting a ring on Nina Howard's finger. “She wanted us to spend Christmas together, and I realised instantly that _that_ was never going to happen either.”

“So you broke up with her?” She does look at him now, sounding just surprised enough that he wonders if he should be offended.

“I broke up with her.” He nods, thankful as he says it out loud that he didn't let things with Nina drag on any longer, not once it was clear she thought of them as a couple while he couldn't think of anything worse.

“You know, spending Christmas with the person you're dating isn't...” she says, pausing, choosing her words, he thinks. “Well, it isn't exactly the weirdest idea in the world.”

“I guess that depends on who it is you're dating.” He shrugs, remembering the first Christmas they were together, and how he couldn't wait to spend it with her, how there wasn't even a hint of the panic he had felt when Nina suggested it.

“I guess it does.” She gives him a small, sad smile and once again turns to look at the Christmas tree. “I love this tree.”

“I know you do,” he says, wondering if there's even the faint chance that she came here today for the reason he did.

“That was a nice weekend, the one we spent here.” She bites her lip and he can tell she's questioning her choice to mention it. “You know, when we were still in DC, I mean.”

“It was.” He watches as she relaxes, realising she was completely unsure what his reaction would be, and he feels bad for that. “Even if I was totally Christmassed out by the end of it.”

“I refuse to believe it's possible to be Christmassed out,” she says, smiling faintly as she turns back to him. “Bah humbug, Billy.”

“I'm here, aren't I? Sitting in the park on Christmas Eve, strangely drawn to this damn tree.” He nudges her shoulder and he's pleased when her smile widens slightly. “I feel like I'm due a Bah humbug pass.”

“Mmm, I guess.” She drops her gaze to where he's pulled his hands from his pockets and is rubbing them together in an attempt to warm them even a little. “Why don't you ever remember your gloves? One day your fingers will simply give up and just drop off.”

“I really don't think that's how it happens,” he says, amused but unsurprised that she still finds this trait of his annoying.

“Well, maybe not,” she says, smiling again. “But I hope you asked Santa for gloves, regardless.”

“I think there are rules about this kind of thing.” He returns her smile and slides his hands back into his pockets. “And I'm pretty sure I didn't make it onto the right list this year.”

“There's still time. Santa is all-seeing.” She stands up and pulls her scarf tighter around herself. “Buy me a hot chocolate and you could still make the nice list, you never know.”

“Worth a shot.” She stands up and they start to walk, in a silence that feels more comfortable than that of their earlier quiet.

He opts for coffee, she chooses a mint hot chocolate and for a few seconds they hover outside the door of the coffee shop. He watches as she takes a sip, closing her eyes briefly as she savours her first taste, and he's grateful too for the warmth of his own cup as he wraps his hands around it.

“Thanks for this, I hope it gets you onto the right list in good time.” She sighs and looks at her watch. “Alright, I really should get moving. I need to get groceries and I'd like to make it to the five o'clock Mass.”

“Okay, well...” He feels the urge to kiss her cheek, but he can't quite muster up the courage, so he settles for resting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing lightly. “Merry Christmas, I guess.”

“You guess?” She raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly as he shakes his head.

“Merry Christmas, Mackenzie.” This time he does find his nerve and he leans in, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before turning to walk away.

“Billy?” She pauses and waits until he stops and turns back to her. “I'm sorry, you know...I mean, I know it's my fault that you can't trust anyone, or commit to anyone, and, well, I'm sorry I did that to you. I just...I wanted to tell you that.”

This time she's the one who turns and starts to walk away, and he's so thrown by her words that she's halfway down the block before he can begin to digest what she said. As ever, she blames herself for his inadequacies, for his inability to accept what he knows deep down; that he'll only ever commit to her, because she's the only one he'll ever love.

He walks slowly at first, lost in thought, paying barely any attention to the streets around him, and he only speeds up when he finishes his coffee and feels the absence of its warmth in his hands. At home he turns on the TV, vaguely registering a Christmas movie, something with bells and kids, the usual. He turns her words over and over and he can't stop thinking about how clear it was that she holds herself fully responsible not only for what happened between them, but for his behaviour since.

And there it is, the proverbial penny, dropping like a sack of hot bricks, and it brings him to his feet and sends him pacing across the room, his hand running through his hair as if it will calm his racing thoughts. Yes, she may have made the initial mistake but he's been making her pay for it ever since, and his heart sinks as he thinks about how he's treated her, what he's put her through, all of it far outweighing what she did. Fuck, he needs to tell her, he needs to apologise, it's him who needs to ask for forgiveness, not her, she's long atoned for what happened and he's the one who just kept punishing her. He has to tell her he loves her too, that he never stopped, and that if he hasn't totally blown any chance he may have had, he wants to be with her. Forever.

Mass. She said she was going to Mass at five, so he turns on the laptop and Googles 'catholic churches midtown', exasperated by the unsurprising number of results. He narrows it down to the ones within a few blocks of her apartment, and then he checks which of those have five o'clock services scheduled for today. He ends up with a list of four possible churches. Sitting back in his chair, he sighs as he realises that if the first two he were to try turned out not to be where she was, by the time he hit up the others he'd miss her anyway. All this is going on the assumption that she attends church in the immediate vicinity of where she lives, when, knowing Mackenzie, she could just as easily chosen a church based on the style of the stained glass, or its proximity to a Starbucks. Shit. He doesn't want to call her, he doesn't want her to not be able to enjoy the peace of the service, for her to be wondering why he's about to show up and bother her, and it doesn't feel right to turn up on her doorstep the night before Christmas either. In a moment of what he hopes is inspiration rather than madness, he reaches for his phone and scrolls through his list of contacts.

“Hi...Will?” Jim sounds as confused as he probably should on a Saturday afternoon that also happens to be Christmas Eve. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, look, I'm sorry to call on Christmas Eve, and this might be a shot in the dark,” he says, glancing back at the laptop at the narrowed down list of churches. “You wouldn't happen to know which church Mackenzie goes to, would you?”

“Oh, um, I...” Jim hesitates, sounding torn between someone wanting to be a good friend and an obedient employee. “Mackenzie's in London, Will.”

“No, Jim, she's not.” He appreciates Jim's instantly loyal reaction but he has no time for it right now. “I saw her this afternoon, and unless she's figured out how to teleport, which actually wouldn't surprise me, she's not in London.”

“Right, okay, well...church, did you say?” Jim asks, sounding confused again before falling silent.

“Yeah, does she have a regular church?” he asks, only now wondering if she even does, or if she just heads for wherever is convenient in her moments of need. “I mean, if she were going to head to Mass, say at five today, which she may or may not have mentioned she was doing, where might she go?”

“Oh, yeah, she goes to...” Jim pauses again and his heart sinks as he starts to think Jim doesn't have a clue and maybe he will just have to show up at her door like bad Santa. “Wait, it's Saint something, I know that-”

“Saint something? Helpful, Jim, real helpful,” he says, trying not to take his impatience out on Jim, but coming pretty close to failing.

“Wait no, I do know!” Jim says, apparently having a lightbulb moment. “The animals, who's the one with the animals?”

“St Francis?” He looks at the screen, there's a St Francis of Assisi church in his final four, and he holds his breath as he waits for Jim's response.

“Yeah, that's it, St Francis of Assisi.” Jim confims, sounding relieved, like he's passed a test he didn't know he was about to take. “It's on, like, 30th street, maybe?”

“West 31st. It's on West 31st,” he says, to himself more than to Jim. “Thanks, Jim. Oh, and Merry Christmas, sorry to bother you.”

“No problem, it's fine. Um, Merry Christmas to you too,” Jim says, letting out a breath. “Maybe, um, you didn't get this info from me, right? If she goes nuts, I mean.”

“Of course not.” He smiles, impressed again by Jim's loyalty to Mackenzie, tinged perhaps with just a touch of healthy fear. “I'll tell her it was an educated guess, don't worry about it.”

“She's never going to believe that,” Jim replies, and he grins, knowing he's dead right. “No offence.”

“None taken,” he says, clicking on the church's website and pulling up the map. “Alright, thanks, see you in a couple of days.”

He looks at the time and wonders if it would be the worst thing ever to call Scott and see if there's an assistant who wouldn't mind running to Tiffany at two o'clock on Christmas Eve, and then he remembers just how much of a cut Scott takes from him and decides no, it's far from the worst thing ever. The engagement ring is in his drawer at work, but he doesn't want to blindside her with that, not when he's essentially about to ambush her at church and declare his undying love. If the shock of that doesn't send her running, he doesn't want a huge diamond to be the thing that does. Heading to the Tiffany website, he finds the earrings he almost bought for her birthday before he realised spending six thousand dollars on her while he was newly dating Nina was probably not the most gentlemanly thing he could do. Emailing the link to Scott, he follows with a text, asking if there's a chance someone could pick them up and have them at his place by four. A message comes back in seconds, a 'no problem, I have someone up there right now shopping for me, they'll be with you in an hour', and he makes a mental note to send Scott a decent bottle of Scotch in the new year.

He's outside the church before six, the Tiffany box in his pocket, his stomach churning nervously as he sees the doors open and people start to file out. He steps inside, moves into a corner and tries to look inconspicuous, not easy when you're the tall, recognisable guy from the TV, he gets that, but other than a couple of people who give him a second glance as they pass, he manages it. Then he sees her, she's talking to an older woman, smiling as she does, reaching to pull her hat from her bag as the woman walks away. She turns for the doors and he knows exactly when she spots him because the hat slides from her hands onto the floor and she frowns, leaning down to scoop it up, her knuckles white as she grips it, glaring at it angrily, like it's deliberately trying to escape her.

“Hey,” he says, moving aside to let the final few people pass before reaching for her arm and steering her into the corner he just stepped out from. “Nice service?”

“It was, yes. What...” She takes a breath and adjusts her bag as it threatens to slide from her shoulder. “What are you doing here? And how did you even know where to find me?”

“Oh, you know, educated guess,” he says, wondering if she'll buy it for even a second. “There aren't that many catholic churches in Manhattan.”

“At last count, I think there were around eighty-five catholic churches in Manhattan. You called Jim,” she says, knowingly, and he nods. “Did he try and insist I was in London?”

“He did.” He nods again and she smiles. “He's loyal to a tee but he can't lie for shit.”

“You know it's straight to hell for cursing in church, Billy.” She nudges his shoulder and grins, heading for the door. “Come on, let's get out of here. I'm guessing you showed up here for a reason?”

“Yeah, after I left you earlier, I was thinking about what you said, about it being down to you that I can't commit to anyone, and you were right,” he says, watching as she nods, a frown settling across her brow. “It is because of you, hundred percent, no shadow of a doubt.”

“You came all the way up here just to tell me that, to tell me that something I already know is my fault really is my fault?” Her frown deepens and she sighs. “Well, Merry Christmas to you, too.”

“Fuck, this is coming out all wrong.” He reaches for her, grabbing her hand, needing her know that's not what he meant, not at all.

“Two strikes,” she says, glancing pointedly at the crucifix above the door. “Pretty sure the third strike means you're paying for the new church roof.”

“Let's get out of here before I have to start hurling fifties into the collection tray,” he says, buoyed slightly by the fact his hand is still holding hers and she's yet to object. “That's not why I'm here.”

“Alright, what's going on?” she asks as they step outside and she winces as the cold wind hits them. "Oh my God, something's wrong, isn't it? My phone's been on silent while I was in church. Was someone trying to reach me? Did someone die? Is it my dad, is he okay? Did someone call you?"

“What? No, nothing's wrong, I just...” He squeezes her hand tighter and looks into her eyes, her wide and slightly panicked eyes. “Mackenzie, listen to me, nobody died, that's not why I'm here.”

“Okay, good, good, because I'd be pretty pissed if someone had to die on Christmas Eve.” She relaxes slightly and lets out a sigh of relief. “I wouldn't be delighted any time, obviously, but Christmas feels particularly cruel. So if nobody died, and you didn't come to just confirm that yes, all of your misery is completely my fault, then what?”

“What I was trying to say, what I _should_ have said, was that no, I can't commit to anyone else, or move on, but it's not because you destroyed my ability to trust anyone, or to find someone new, it's because I don't want to.” He pauses, determined to get this right, to be as clear as he can, to make sure she knows what he's saying. “I don't want to move on with anyone else, I only want you, Mackenzie, you're the one I want to commit to. I love you, I've always loved you, I've been in love with you since the day we met and I'm pretty damn sure I've never stopped, and-”

“Wait, you're...you... _what_?!” She stops and pulls him towards the wall of the church so people can pass by. “I thought...I mean, I don't...”

“I love you.” He says nothing more, he knows her well enough to know that when she's speechless it's because her mind is blown and she's trying to process what's just been said, and he really, really wants her to process this.

“You love me? You're _in_ love with me?” She looks up at him, biting her lip as he nods. “This isn't sinking in, it makes no sense. I can't quite...you're serious, aren't you?”

“I'm completely serious,” he says, realising just how much this has thrown her, knowing this means he's been more of an ass to her than he thought. “I love you, I'm sorry for everything, for the shit I've put you through, all of it, I've been such an asshole, and if you can forgive me, I want to be with you, if you, you know, if you still-”

“Are you about to ask if I still feel anything for you?” She smiles and her face lights up, filling him with relief, with hope that this could be okay. “Because I didn't think even you could be quite that oblivious. Of course I still love you, you great big idiot, I...it's just that this is so-”

“Unexpected?” He raises an eyebrow, mostly hidden under his hat but the intention is good. 

“Just a little,” she says, shaking her head in what he thinks is disbelief as she smiles up at him.

“In a good way, right?” he asks, pretty sure her smile is giving him his answer, but needing to be certain.

She doesn't say anything. Instead she leans up and kisses him, her lips soft against his as her hand moves to his chest and slides under his coat. It's over before he can truly appreciate it, before his brain can make it beyond silently screaming that she's kissing him, she's actually kissing him.

“It's freezing out here.” She pulls her hand from his coat and slides her arm through his, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed as she looks up at him again. “Walk me home, Billy.”

She's right, it is freezing, he's glad they're only a few blocks from her apartment, and even more glad it appears she did choose a church based on location. Her arm stays linked with his, and he's glad of that too because it means his hands can stay in his pockets where there's a slim hope of warmth alongside the Tiffany box. They reach her apartment and he follows her to the door, expecting her to get her keys out and let them in, surprised and a little wary when she doesn't.

“You alright?” he asks, tentative until he sees the smile she gives him, her eyes bright with happiness.

“Kiss me,” she says, blinking up at him, pulling her hat off and stuffing it into her bag. “Properly now we're not in the street.”

“We're in your hallway...” He's not objecting, he's just curious about why they've made it no further, but not curious enough to refuse her request.

“Mmm-hmm.” She nods and reaches for his collar, pulling him closer, her gloved hand tickling his neck.

He doesn't know how she manages it, but by the time her hands clasp around the back of his neck her gloves are off and her fingers are warm against his skin. Her lips are warm too, her mouth soft on his as he kisses her slowly, tenderly, taking in the taste of her, the feel of her against him after so, so long. She pulls back just slightly, smiles up at him, and then presses her lips back against his, tightening her fingers in his hair when he nudges his tongue gently into her mouth. For a moment he can't quite believe it's happening, he can't believe that a week ago he was dating entirely the wrong woman and now here he is, kissing the only woman who has ever been, and will ever be the right one. She sighs against him and he instinctively pushes his hips into hers, feeling her moan faintly before she sweeps her tongue across his top lip and breaks out of the kiss, burying her face into the side of his neck and pressing her body tightly against his.

“I love you too,” she murmurs into his ear and he reaches down to squeeze her hand. “In case that wasn't clear.”

“It was pretty clear.” He smiles at her as she pulls her face from his neck and leans back against her apartment door. “It's good to hear it though. It's good to know I hadn't totally blown my chances. God, Mac, I can't...if I'd left it too late-”

“You didn't though, you timed it perfectly. Christmas Eve and all, you old romantic.” She smiles and tangles her fingers more tightly in his, stroking her thumb over his skin. “Have Christmas lunch with me tomorrow? I'm cooking. We can eat, drink, do some more of this.”

“I'd love to,” he says, mesmerised by the flush in her cheeks and the slight swollenness of her lips. “All of that.”

“Okay, good.” She smiles and leans in to kiss him again, a quick but soft touch that leaves him wanting more. “Does one o'clock work for you?”

“I don't get to come inside now?” He raises his eyebrows and she shakes her head.

“Nope, I have things to do tonight. Christmas lunch doesn't cook itself, you know,” she says, smiling again, reminding him of how much he loves to see her happy, to make her happy.

“I could help?” He knows he'd be no help whatsoever, and he knows too he's fighting a losing battle even trying to convince her.

“Nice try, but no, you'd just distract me, and you know it.” She squeezes his hand and lets go. 

“Oh, I would.” He smirks. “I really would. I'd keep on distracting you all damn night.”

“Exactly,” she says, returning the smirk. “And as fun as that would be, I don't want to end up eating pizza tomorrow. So go home, watch Elf, or whatever. One o'clock tomorrow. Bring wine, and maybe...a change of clothes.”

“Red or white?” he asks, smirking at her as he starts to calculate how long until he gets to see her tomorrow.

“Well, you're old enough to pick out your own clothes, but it sounds like you're planning to dress like a candy cane,” she says, giggling softly as he rolls his eyes. “I really don't care, bring whichever you have, either is fine.”

“Alright.” He can't quite bring himself to walk away, and it isn't because he's scared it isn't real, it's really just that he can't quite stand to take his eyes off her just yet. “One o'clock tomorrow.”

“Yep.” Again she leans in to kiss him, possibly sensing his reluctance to move and wanting to reassure him. Or maybe she just wants to kiss him again, either is fine with him. “See you tomorrow.”

He cups her face and runs his thumb gently across her cheekbone before he finally steps away and watches her walk into her apartment before he turns for the stairs. It's even colder when he steps outside so he decides walking home from her place is a little ambitious and hails a taxi instead, glad of its warmth as he watches the city pass by. He realises he still has the Tiffany box in his pocket, but it doesn't matter because he's spending Christmas Day with her, she can have her gift on the right day, and the thought makes him smile.

At home, he opens a beer and starts to channel surf, smiling when he sees Elf, but settling eventually on White Christmas, seeing it through to the end before deciding he should eat some dinner. A bowl of pasta, two more beers, and another Christmas movie later, he looks at the time and decides to go to bed. His head is filled with thoughts of Mackenzie, her sweet smile, her soft giggle, the feel of her lips on his, and he wonders if she's doing the same, turning today's events over in her mind. At midnight he reaches for his phone and sends a message _'It's officially December 25th. Merry Christmas, Midtown. I love you, X'._ He guesses he wasn't the only one pondering the day because a message comes back in seconds _'I love you too. Get some sleep or Santa will skip your place...oh, and Merry Christmas, xx.'_

He'll get to see her again in thirteen hours, and from that point on he intends to never be away from her again, so, like an obedient five-year-old, he turns off the light and shuts his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _By the time he arrives (so dead on time that she wonders how long he's been pacing outside before pressing her intercom), the turkey is in the oven and well underway, the vegetables are peeled, chopped and ready to be started, and the pie has cooled and is covered on the counter. She picks up and buzzes him in, her heart skipping a beat at his simple “Hi, it's me.”_

It's early but she's barely slept and she has plenty to do so she decides to get up anyway. She doesn't remember the last time she struggled to sleep because she was excited about something, because she was happy rather than anxious, and she knows she spent a good portion of the time she was lying awake wondering why the fuck she didn't just ask him in and let him stay last night. They could have been waking up together, spending the morning drinking coffee and watching Christmas crap on TV, but for some reason it felt right to embrace their new situation with just a kiss (and damn, it was a really _great_ kiss), leaving them both in sweet anticipation of what comes next.

She makes coffee, she checks her emails, and sends her parents a message with a promise to Skype in a while. The apartment has looked like Christmas for two weeks, a huge tree filling a corner of the living room and candles on the mantle, although the mistletoe hanging in every possible spot is a new addition, something she pulled frantically from a box late last night, when it became apparent there may actually be a need for it. Thinking about last night makes her smile again, how she went from preparing to spend the day alone, going through the motions of cooking a meal merely so she had an excuse to open the wine, to planning now to spend it with Will. Not only is she spending Christmas with him, but he loves her, he always has, and it's almost more than she can take in, even though she knows without doubt that it's true. She laughs aloud to her empty kitchen and makes a start on finishing what she didn't get to last night, ticking each thing off her list with a sense of satisfaction.

There's a definite chance she has enough food for about five people, but hell, Will has a good appetite, and neither of them is at work for three more nights so they can work their way through the leftovers together before then. The pie she decided to bake an hour ago may have been slight overkill, but she doesn't care, the smell of it filling the apartment is already enough of a justification. She pours another coffee and sits down, taking a few minutes to relax before the timer goes off and she needs to rescue her pie. When it's done, she heads for the shower, aware of the grin on her face as she stands under the spray, and not even attempting to shake it off.  
Deciding she's going to wear a dress, she gets ready, puts on her make-up and curls her hair, glancing at the time and realising her mum's impatience will get the better of her if she doesn't hear from her soon. She turns her laptop on, reaches for the box of chocolates she opened a few nights ago, and pops one into her mouth while she waits for the computer to boot up.

“Merry Christmas, Mum.” She grins as her mum's face appears on the screen, her hair freshly cut for Christmas, as is her usual way, and a broad smile on her face. “I didn't catch you in the middle of anything, did I?”

“No, darling, of course not. We've eaten, and if the quiet is any indication then everyone is dozing, I think, so your timing is perfect. Merry Christmas to you too, of course,” Penny says, leaning closer to her screen, a smirk creeping onto her lips. “Well, don't you look lovely! I shan't lie, I rather expected to see you in your pyjamas. Are you going to church?”

“No, I went to Mass last night,” she says, preparing herself for her mum's inevitable reaction to her plans for today. “I'm at home today, I'm making lunch.”

“You curled your hair and put your make-up on to make lunch for yourself?” Her mum raises an eyebrow and she knows this is where the inquisition begins.

“Well, it _is_ Christmas, Mum.” She aims for flippant but she knows her mum can read her like a book, so she decides not to bother trying to hide anything. “I'm not making lunch just for myself, I'm cooking for Will too. He had no plans, I had no plans, and it's as easy to cook for two as it is for one, so it seemed like a sensible idea, and-”

“Mackenzie Morgan McHale, you, my dear, are on the very precipice of babbling, and I know what that means.” Penny sits back slightly, crossing her arms in front of her, a smug look in her eyes as she continues. “When did this happen and why on earth did I not know a thing about it? Tell me everything.”

“Don't be getting yourself into a knot,” she says, sighing as she pushes her hair behind her ear. “I haven't been hiding anything, there was absolutely nothing to tell until last night, and then-”

“Ooh, I can only imagine what happened last night. How lovely! Are you back together or is this a juicy little Christmas fling, a 'what happens under the mistletoe stays under the mistletoe' kind of arrangement?” Penny asks, an unmissable glint in her eyes.

“Mum, you do know which of your daughters you're talking to, right?” She quirks an eyebrow. “Do you really think I could have a fling with Will and nothing more?”

“No, of course not, you're quite right. So, you are back together, is that what you're saying?” Her mum doesn't wait for a reply, instead racing ahead as she so often does. “Gosh, is he hiding in the bathroom at this very moment? Dear God, Mackie, let the poor bugger out!”

“Alright, I'm going to take one question at a time, how about that?” She raises an eyebrow, gratified when her mum looks sheepish and nods. “Yes, I guess we are...I mean, yes, we're back together, and no, he's not hiding in the bathroom, he's not hiding anywhere, he'll be here in about an hour. Is that good enough?”

“But I thought you said this happened last night?” She loves that this appears to have thoroughly baffled her mum, the fact that things developed last night but that he's not with her this morning. “Good golly, did you ravish the poor chap and send him on his way?”

“For crying out loud, Mum! It did happen last night, I did not ravish him and send him packing, and I know it's killing you, but I'm not going to go into every single detail, except to say that yes, we're back together, he'll be here in an hour, and I need to go and finish getting things ready for lunch,” she says, deciding to throw caution to the wind and give her mum something she can chew over. “And we may not have...well, he may not have stayed last night, but if I asked you to please not call tomorrow morning, would that give you an idea of the chances of him staying tonight?”

“It most certainly would, and I'm delighted for you, darling. I was always confident the two of you would find your way back to one another, but I must say, it's been an awfully long time coming.” Her mum's face lights up and she smiles again. “Now, I'm going to go and prod your father awake, I think it's about time he poured me some more wine and found me some chocolates and this is the loveliest news for him to wake up to. Please do send our love to Will, you know how much we adore him.”

“I do, and I will.” She has to swallow around a huge lump in her throat because she does know how much they love Will, and she remembers how it hurt to know she'd not only broken his heart but she'd removed someone they loved from their lives too. “Wish Daddy a merry Christmas from me too, won't you.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Penny blows a kiss, as she always does when they end a call. “Have a lovely day and we'll talk to you soon.”

By the time he arrives (so dead on time that she wonders how long he's been pacing outside before pressing her intercom), the turkey is in the oven and well underway, the vegetables are peeled, chopped and ready to be started, and the pie has cooled and is covered on the counter. She picks up and buzzes him in, her heart skipping a beat at his simple “Hi, it's me.” Opening the door, she hears him coming up the stairs and she can't contain the smile that spreads across her lips as he comes into view, a bottle of wine in each hand, a small bag over his shoulder, and a smile on his face to rival her own.

“I wasn't sure so I brought red,” he says, holding up the first bottle, then the second. “And white.”

“Thank you.” She takes one bottle out of his hand and waits for him to step inside, closing the door behind him and waiting as he drops his bag. Reaching for his hand she leads him into the kitchen and puts the wine on the counter, watching as he does the same with the other bottle.

“Hi,” she says, leaning up and resting her hands on his face, noting how cold he is as she runs her thumbs across his skin. “Merry Christmas.”

She doesn't give him chance to say anything in response, instead pushing him back slightly until he's pressed against the counter, closing the space between them and covering her lips with his, her thoughts turning back to their goodnight kiss just hours earlier, warmth running through her again just as it did then. His arms wrap around her and his hands come to rest on her lower back as he returns her kiss, his mouth soft and gentle on hers. There's a part of her thinking to hell with turkey, maybe she should just have _him_ for lunch, but then she remembers she's been awake and in the kitchen for hours and they've waited long enough that another couple of hours can really only add to the build up.

“It smells amazing in here,” he murmurs against her lips as he pulls slowly away.

“I made pie,” she says, distracted by his hands stroking across her back and the look in his eyes as he fixes his gaze on her.

“You did?” He smiles and she slides her hands under his coat, feeling the soft wool of his sweater under her fingers.

“Mmm-hmm.” She nods and steps back, smiling up at him. “I was awake early so I figured I may as well just get up and start cooking.”

“I was awake early too,” he says, pausing and stepping back so he can take off his coat, revealing a dark green sweater, a shade just Christmassy enough that it makes her grin. “I could have come on over and given you a hand.”

“With the baking?” She bites her lip, remembering her decision last night, her certainty that him staying over would only result in the kind of distraction that would have meant leftover egg rolls for Christmas lunch.

“With whatever you needed.” He smirks and she feels herself blushing, but it's not in embarrassment, it's in anticipation of knowing where the day will lead.

“Right now I need you to go and hang up your coat and then pour us some wine. While you're doing that I'll get the vegetables on and then we can sit down for a while,” she says, smiling again as he tangles his fingers briefly in hers before stepping away.

“Sure, I can do that.” He turns to hang his coat and she takes the opportunity to study him; his broad shoulders covered by the soft green sweater, his long legs in dark blue jeans...before she drags her attention reluctantly back to the stove.

He hands her a glass of wine and she nods her thanks, again taking his hand, unable to resist touching him now that she finally can, and moving them into the living room. He sits down and puts his wine on the coffee table, and she can feel his eyes on her as she leans forward to pick up the box she wrapped late last night, a hint of surprise in his expression as she hands it to him.

“I got you something, and I know we didn't really talk about buying for each other, you know...” she says, shrugging slightly, not wanting him to feel bad because she's broken some possibly unspoken rule. “But after I left you in the park yesterday, I was walking home, and I decided to...it's just a little thing.”

“Thank you,” he says, opening the box and grinning at her as he takes out the soft black leather gloves she couldn't resist after watching him shoving his hands in his pockets for warmth the previous day. “It was bugging you, wasn't it? That I showed up with a hat and scarf but no gloves.”

“It wasn't bugging me, exactly, but...it made no sense to me that you'd wrap up but then have your hands bare and completely freezing.” She pauses, smiling and shrugging again. “And from a selfish point of view, if your hands are going to be on me a little more from now on, I'd kind of like them to be warm.”

“Seems fair.” He nods and smiles back at her, trying the gloves on and holding his hands up, giving his fingers an exaggerated waggle before removing the gloves and setting them down on the table. “I got something for you too.”

He stands up and walks over to where he hung up his coat, and she watches as he pulls something from the pocket before he heads back across the room and sits down beside her, pushing her hair tenderly behind her ear.

“You look beautiful today, by the way,” he says, his thumb lingering on her face, running softly over her cheekbone.

“Thank you.” She'd forgotten how quick he always was to compliment her, how it was something that took a while to get used to in the beginning, especially after being with Brian, who gave her fewer compliments the whole time they were together than Will did in their first week of dating.

He holds out a box in front of her, a small box in unmistakable Tiffany blue, and she feels her stomach flip over slightly, an almost automatic reaction as she recalls the box he showed her in his office months ago, a ring inside so perfect that she'd gone to the bathroom and cried, furious with herself for blowing any chance of it ever ending up on her finger. She realises he's waiting for her to take the box from him, so she does, lifting the lid and pulling out the smaller velvet one inside.

“Oh!” Opening the lid, she sees the most beautiful pair of earrings; small, understated, pear-shaped diamonds glistening up at her from the silk they're nestled on. “They're gorgeous, Will, I mean, they're really gorgeous...God, they're just-”

“Gorgeous?” He quirks an eyebrow and she smiles, feeling his eyes on her as she reaches in and takes the earrings from the box, one by one, carefully putting them on before pushing the box back into his hands and standing up to head for the mirror in the hallway.

“I love them,” she says, glancing at him with a smile, and then turning her attention back to the mirror. “I really love them, thank you...oh God, did you send some poor assistant running to Tiffany on Christmas Eve?”

“I may have, yeah.” He nods, shrugging and looking slightly embarrassed. “But I knew which ones I wanted, he only had to run in and grab them.”

“What do you mean, you knew which ones you wanted?” She crosses the room and sits down, looking at him in curiosity.

“I almost got them for your birthday, but then I, um...” He frowns and she understands his sudden hesitation, because she remembers her birthday being a week after she found out he'd started seeing Nina. “Well, it didn't seem entirely appropriate to buy diamonds for you when I was-”

“When you were seeing someone else?” She nods, reaching for his hand, hoping to communicate that it's irrelevant now, trying to convince herself of the same thing.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice quiet, his eyes fixed firmly on hers. “Exactly.”

“It's okay.” She smiles at him and takes the boxes back from him, and she's sliding the smaller one inside the other and putting the lid back on when something occurs to her. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” His answer comes without hesitation, his hand squeezing hers.

“This little box right here...” She holds up the box, biting her lip slightly before she goes on. "Was this a test to see if the possibility of a ring might see me running from the room?"

"What if it was?" His gaze doesn't waver and her stomach flips over under its intensity, knowing without a doubt that if he had pulled a ring out of that box she wouldn't have hesitated for a single second before giving him a resounding yes.

"Do you see me running?" She tangles her fingers tighter in his (God, she's missed holding his hand), smiling softly.

"Nope,” he says, shaking his head, his smile matching hers.

"Well then..." She doesn't feel like she needs to say anything more, so instead she leans forward and kisses him, her hand still in his as she runs her tongue slowly across his top lip, sighing against him as his free hand slides into her hair and his fingers start to gently massage the back of her head.

She shifts along the couch and slides down, pulling him slightly awkwardly with her, wriggling lower until she's reclining and he's half on top of her, his hands under her dress and roaming across her thighs. Reaching up to loop her hands around his neck, she moans as he finds her underwear and his fingers slide under the lace, his fingertips pressing urgently against her ass and his lips moving down her neck. Twenty-four hours ago she was sitting in the park, preparing for Christmas alone, planning to do nothing more than eat, drink, and sleep, and now she's on the couch with Will, his fingers in her panties, his warm kisses travelling down her neck, and if she wasn't so completely aroused to the point where she feels like she might explode she'd probably wonder if she'd dozed off and landed in the middle of the cruellest dream imaginable.

“Billy, we have...” She stops, moaning again as he scrapes his teeth down her neck, but managing to glance at her watch. “Seven minutes...before everything in the kitchen is ready and-”

“Are you telling me to hurry the fuck up?” He lifts his head and looks at her, his dark eyes sending a fresh pool of unmistakable warmth to her core. “Or asking me to stop?”

“As much I'm kicking myself for this, I don't want...” She sighs, pushing a piece of hair back off his forehead, the perfect excuse to touch him. “I want more than seven minutes, and I want more than the two of us rolling around half-dressed on the couch.”

“I know, yeah, I know.” He gives her a half-smile, kisses her neck, and reluctantly lifts himself off her, leaning back against the couch and running a faintly shaky hand through his hair. “Shit though, Mac...”

“Mmm-hmm,” she says, adjusting her dress back into place, aware of her messy hair and flushed cheeks as she grins at him. “We've still got it, you and me.”

“Did you ever doubt it?” he asks, raising an eyebrow and sliding his hand over to rest on her thigh.

“I doubted this would ever happen at all, obviously, but I knew if it did it'd be just as good as it ever was.” She covers his hand and squeezes softly before she stands up and smiles at him. “Come on, you can give me a hand in the kitchen.”

It feels oddly like no time has passed since they were in DC and she used to order him around her kitchen there. She enjoys cooking, she always has, she just doesn't often bother when it's only for herself, but when they were together she rediscovered her love for it and would cook for the two of them every chance she got. The thought of being able to do it again makes her smile as she hands him the final bowl of vegetables to take to the table and follows him in with the open bottle of wine.

“This looks great,” he says, glancing at the probably ridiculous amount of food laid out on the table in front of them. “Like, a lot, but great.”

“We have a few days off work, it'll keep us going,” she replies, aware that she's cooked enough for about six people. “You know I like to cook.”

“I do know that.” He smiles and squeezes her hand before reaching for the wine, pouring hers first and then his own. “A couple of days out of the office will be good, right?”

“Mmm, really good, yeah,” she says, feeling a smirk move across her lips. “We can eat and drink and talk and watch TV, and just think about all the sex we can have, Billy.”

“Can't say it'd crossed my mind,” he says, smirking back at her. “But now you mention it...”

They eat and she pours more wine, noticing the faint flush in his cheeks, whether from the huge lunch or the alcohol she isn't really sure. She has to stop for a break halfway through but he keeps on going, tackling a mountain of roast potatoes with the same enthusiasm he always did when she cooked for him. It makes her smile, how simple it feels, how relaxed, almost as if the last year and a half of misery was a bad dream. She knows they have to talk, and they will, but she knows too that this is it, that he's the only one for her, and vice versa, and the certainty sends a warm feeling of complete contentment running through her. He pauses and turns to her, no doubt wondering why she's suddenly stopped eating and is simply sitting and gazing at him with a slightly stupefied smile on her face.

“You alright?” he asks, looking at her with what appears to be amusement.

“Yeah, just...I don't know, sitting here thinking about how easy this is, I guess.” She shrugs, feeling silly and struggling to put it into words. “That makes no sense, sorry. It's stupid, I know.”

“No, it's not,” he says, reaching for his wine and taking a sip before he continues. “I mean, shit, this time yesterday neither of us thought this was on the cards for today, right? So for it to feel so totally natural is, you know, pretty amazing.”

“I guess that's just how you know it's right,” she says, smiling again and unable to resist leaning in and kissing his cheek softly before she sits back and watches as he takes a breath and goes back to his food.

She runs out of steam before he does, but when he does finally admit defeat it's with a long sigh of satisfaction that makes her smile. There's not a chance she could even think about eating pie right now, but she's fairly sure she can manage to drag herself from the table to the couch, the thought of snuggling up with him for a while helping to spur her on.

He insists on loading the dishwasher, on covering and storing all the leftovers, and when he's done he opens another bottle of wine and comes to sit beside her on the couch as she scrolls through the TV channels, eventually settling on something that looks vaguely festive. She curls her feet up under her and feels his arm slide around her shoulder, pulling her to him, his touch bringing yet another smile to her lips.

“This is nice,” she murmurs, sighing softly as he drops a soft kiss to the top of her head. 

“Yeah.” His voice is low, moving through her, warm and comforting. “It is.”

“Oh, my mum sends her love, by the way,” she says, smiling as she recalls her mother's obvious happiness at hearing the news of their reunion. “She said to remind you she adores you.”

“You told her I was coming for lunch?” he asks, sounding surprised, although she's not sure why.

“Oh, you know my mum, there's no keeping anything from her.” She feels him let out a faint huff of laughter in response. “She was quite keen to know if this was just a Christmas fling. I believe a 'what happens under the mistletoe stays under the mistletoe thing' was how she referred to it.”

“I hope you set her straight on that?” He runs his hand down her arm and smiles when she shifts slightly to look up at him. “That this is absolutely _not_ a fling, Christmas or otherwise.”

“I did.” She smiles back at him, nodding. “She said it was about damn time, or words to that effect.”

“She's not wrong,” he says, his voice soft as he looks intently at her, gauging her reaction, she thinks, his face relaxing when she smiles a little wider and reaches forward to rest her hand on his chest.

They fall into silence and she feels the gentle movement of his hand stroking down her arm starting to lull her into a faint doze, one she considers trying to fight until she accepts it's pointless and that this is everything she could want from a post-lunch snuggle. When she does open her eyes and glances up at him, she expects him to be napping too, so she's surprised to find him wide awake and watching TV, a sweet smile on his face. She curls her fingers against his chest, letting him know she's awake, pushing herself more tightly into his side with a soft sigh.

“Good nap, honey?” he asks, an amused look in his eyes as she nods, yawning slightly.

“Food coma rather than nap, I think, but yeah, it was nice,” she answers, turning to rest her head on his chest.

“I noticed something while you were sleeping,” he says, his voice once again rumbling through her, making her wonder if she can just stay here, pressed against his chest forever. “Your, um, light reading choice for the holidays?”

“Hmm?” She's not sure what he's referring to at first, and then she sees the book on the table in front of them. “Ah, yeah. War and Peace.”

“In Russian, Mackenzie.” He sounds equal parts amused and impressed, and she shrugs against him.

“I've read it before, of course, but not in a while, and before you showed up last night I was fully prepared to be holed up here alone for four days, so it seemed like a good time for a reread,” she says, aware that it isn't most people's choice of light holiday reading.

“In _Russian_.” He repeats himself and she laughs at his amazement, nodding as she looks at him.

“Yep.” She bites her lip, remembering how he used to love hearing her speak Russian, wondering if that's still the case, deciding to find out with her next sentence, the look on his face proving he still finds it appealing.

“Holy shit,” he says, covering her hand with his and squeezing. “Have you forgotten what that does to me?”

“I may have had a vague recollection of you finding it strangely sexy,” she says, moving her hand to his thigh, hearing his breath catch as she slides it higher. “Although it's beyond me how it can have that effect when you quite literally have no idea what I just said.”

“It's not really about what you're saying, it's much more about how it sounds in your voice.” He pauses, cupping her face as he looks at her, stroking his thumb over her chin. “You could be telling me to clean the bathroom floor with only my tongue and it'd still be as sexy as hell.”

“I'll remember that for future reference when the bathroom floor does need cleaning.” She grins at him, squeezing his thigh. “So...how full are you feeling? You still fit to burst or are you okay?”

“I'm actually okay,” he says. “Nothing like a half hour with you asleep on me to digest a big lunch. “Why, are you craving pie?”

“I'm craving _something_...” She tilts her chin and slides her hand into his hair, dragging his face towards her, meeting his lips with hers, gently nibbling on his bottom lip before pulling away. “Not pie.”

She uncurls herself from his side and stands up, her hand clasped tightly in his as she waits for him to get to his feet. Saying nothing (it really doesn't seem necessary), she pulls him from the couch, down the hallway, and into the bedroom almost in a single move, only letting go of his hand to hurl the pillows off the bed into the direction of the chair in the corner of the room. His eyes roam quickly around the room before returning to her, and she feels a churning in her stomach that has nothing to do with lunch and everything to do with the way he's looking at her. Stepping forward, she leans up and kisses him, softly but with purpose.

“Make yourself comfortable. I'll be two minutes,” she murmurs against his cheek, grabbing his hand in a brief squeeze before dropping it and moving towards the bathroom, not turning back as she adds her clarification. “And by make yourself comfortable, I mean take your clothes off.”

In the bathroom she tidies her hair (pointless given her hopes that he's about to thoroughly mess it up), wipes a smudge of eyeliner from her cheek, and takes off her dress, draping it over the towel rail. Looking in the mirror, she takes a deep breath, silently chiding herself for her unexpected bout of sudden nervousness, focusing instead on the fact that this isn't some stranger, this is _Will_ , and right now he's waiting in her bedroom, hopefully in nothing but his shorts. The thought makes her smile and a hum of anticipation boldly pushes the nerves aside as she checks the mirror again, ignoring the scar he's yet to see, consciously choosing to concentrate on the push-up bra currently doing a stellar job, and the matching panties setting it off to perfection. She flicks off the light and walks slowly back into the bedroom.

He seems to have paid attention because, just as she hoped, he's undressed down to just his shorts, and her heart melts a little when she sees how neatly his clothes are folded on her dresser stool. For a strangely awkward couple of seconds, she stands unnoticed, watching as he stares out of her window, wondering what he's thinking, if he's even the tiniest bit nervous.

“Like the view?” She walks up behind him and rests her hand on his back, moving it slowly over his shoulder blade and pressing herself against him.

“It's...” He starts to reply, stopping when he turns to her and sees she's in just her underwear. “Yeah, I like the view.”

Smiling she takes his hand again and leads him to the bed, pushing him to sit down and stepping in between his legs, her hands settling on his shoulders. His hands move to her thighs and she jolts slightly when his fingers start to roam across her skin, and she feels a pool of heat start to build between her legs, a slow ache moving into place. She's not surprised, she's never been aroused by anyone the way she is by Will, and she's been without his touch for so long she doubts he's going to have to work too hard at all. He will anyway, of course, she hasn't forgotten how he was with her, how he always made it his absolute mission to satisfy her, and there have been so many nights spent lying awake yearning for his touch that she almost has to pinch herself to be certain this is real.

His fingers stroke around the back of her thighs, the hint of roughness in the skin of his fingertips sending yet another shot of warmth to her abdomen, and she feels her knees wobble. She grips his shoulders a little more tightly, sighing as his lips land on her stomach, his tongue circling her belly button, his mouth pressing tiny kisses across her skin. He pauses when he reaches her scar and she's prepared for a pause, possibly even for a conversation, so when he simply looks up at her and whispers her name, she breathes a sigh of relief and reaches for his hand, squeezing hard on his fingers and giving him an encouraging smile. Her breath catches when his lips move lower and his tongue dips just under the elastic of her underwear. Instinctively she moans and pushes herself forward, her nails scratching down his shoulders when his hand slips slowly and gently into her panties.

“Will...” His name falls from her lips and he stops, grinning when she moans and presses herself harder against him, letting him know the last thing he should do is stop.

Her hands move to his hair, her attempt to steady herself as his hand starts to stroke through her wetness, the sensation almost too much, his touch completely overwhelming after so long without it. He finds a rhythm almost immediately and it's like he never forgot for a single second how to touch her. She's so wet she can feel how she's coating his fingers, and she marvels again at how he's the only one who has ever turned her on like this, the only one whose touch does something to her that nobody else ever could. When he slides a finger slowly inside her it's with a smile so sweet and sexy that she almost comes right there, and when a second finger pushes into her the deal is done and she squirms under his touch and comes with a long, loud moan.

Leaning down she kisses him hard, her tongue urgent against his, the throbbing between her legs yet to subside, her breathing still heavy. Licking her lips, she watches his eyes fix on hers as she parts his legs wider and kneels down between them, needing nothing more than to take him between her lips and feel him get hard in her mouth. He's already hard when her hand slides into his shorts and takes hold of him, and she smiles when he groans her name and his hands grasp at the bedding under him. She looks up at his face as she strokes her hand slowly up and down the length of him, watching his eyes darken as she bites her lip. He gets harder under her touch and his cheeks colour pink as she runs her thumb tenderly over his swollen tip and, with a small smile, dips her head and takes him into her mouth.

If she's missed the feel of him in her mouth this much, she can only imagine how it's going to feel to have him inside her again, to feel him push slowly into her, filling her in the way no other man has ever, or could ever do. It isn't just that he's big (although he is, he really is), it's that it's so much more than just physical with him, he's intense and passionate and his commitment is as all- consuming in bed as it is out of it. She glances up at him as she tastes him, fixing her gaze on his eyes and keeping it there as she swirls her tongue around him and sucks lightly, the look on his face and the sound of his breathing giving her the feedback she needs. She moves her hand to his thigh, stroking up and down as she keeps her lips moving on him, and then she tastes him, she feels the drops of precum on her tongue and she moans around him.

She slows down because he's so hard that she wonders if he's going to come without much warning, and as much as she's totally okay with that, for their first time back together she really needs him to come somewhere other than in her mouth. Letting him slide out of her mouth she stands up and slowly pulls her panties down her legs and motions for him to move back up the bed, which he does, sensibly dragging his shorts off first. She drops her bra to the floor and climbs onto the bed next to him, running her foot down his calf, reaching again for his erection as it pushes hard against her stomach. He groans again as she strokes him and his lips find her nipple and he starts to suck, softly but enough that she feels another rush of wetness and has to bite back a strangled moan. He rolls her gently onto her back and his mouth switches to the other breast, tonguing her nipples alternately until both are standing hard and pink in response.

“Mmm, I need...” She tries to tell him what she wants, what she needs, but he reads her desire and she feels his hardness nudging at the exact place she wants him. Wrapping her legs around him, she tilts her hips and moans urgently. “Yeah, that, there...”

“Oh God, Mackenzie, I...” He stops when she looks him firmly in the eyes and nods, telling him yes, now, she's ready. “Shit, we don't...do we need-”

“No, I'm good if you are,” she says, her voice rasping in her desperation to finally feel him inside her after so long.

He nods and starts to push slowly inside her, stopping when she reaches down between them, concern on his face that lifts as soon as he realises she's urging him on, and she's beyond ready, so wet that he must be able to feel how aroused she is as he continues to slide into her. And suddenly there it is, he's as deep inside her as he can be, and he's so hard that when he starts to move, slowly at first, she thinks she might come again, the deep ache spreading through her as she feels him filling her completely. Lifting her legs higher, she knots her ankles tightly behind his back and raises her arms behind her head, grabbing for the pillow, the headboard, anything to centre herself while he's driving harder into her. He senses her restlessness and he leans forward, finding her hands and tangling his fingers with hers, pushing her arms into the mattress until she feels relief, finds focus, and she's able to think of nothing other than how he feels inside her, on top of her, covering her, making her feel like she's the only woman alive.

They were always talkative during sex, and she knows they will be again tonight, tomorrow, the next day, but for now she can't think, let alone form any kind of coherent speech, so she settles for the occasional murmur of his name, smiling when he seems only to be able to manage the same thing. She knows too that this won't break records for longevity, but she doesn't care, they can go slowly later, but not now, she's amazed they made it this far, beyond lunch, as far as the bedroom, and all she wants is to feel him coming inside her, his lips pressed against her neck as he groans her name like he always used to.

“Oh God...” She hears in his voice how close he is, feels it in the tightening of his hands in hers, so she squeezes her muscles around him and smiles, giving him permission to let go whenever he needs to.

“I know...” She breathes the words and he pulls back, almost all the way out of her, before pushing back inside her and slowing right down, the slow blinking telling her he's there. She rolls her head back on the pillow and he scrapes his teeth clumsily up her neck until she moans. “Mmm, please, Will, _please_...”

It's all he needs and she feels his fingers curl around hers as he lifts himself back and pushes into her a final time, with two, three shallow strokes as he empties himself into her. Leaning forward again, his kisses tickle the skin beneath her ear as she gives a sigh of pure release.

He stays inside her, makes no attempt to move, and she savours the feel of his skin against hers, the weight of him against her, the simple act of a man who loves her enough to not want to simply roll off and leave almost the second he finishes coming.

When he does finally move he's careful and when he rolls to lie beside her, his hand stays in hers, and the look in his eyes is so intense, so raw in its honesty that it makes her blush. She leans in to kiss him, her mouth brushing against his as she brings their joined hands to rest against his side, and she feels him smile when she squeezes her fingers in his. When she realises with reluctance that she needs to move, his eyes follow her across the room as she heads for the bathroom, and he does the same thing when she comes back. She stands beside the bed and he looks at her, his eye travelling up her legs, slowly up her body, and an embarrassed laugh escapes her as she feels her nipples tighten again under his gaze. Holding out her hand, she waits for him to take it, nodding when he climbs out of bed and stands in front of her, his hair a mess, his eyes still dark, and, when she can't resist a glance down, still impressively half-hard.

“Okay, so _now_ I'm craving pie.” She tugs on his hand and smiles before pulling him towards the door. “You could eat pie now, right?”

“This is it now, isn't it?” he asks, waiting for her to turn back to him. “You're just going to drag me around by the hand for the rest of our lives.”

“That...didn't sound like a question.” She smirks, knowing he's not objecting in the slightest.

“No, I guess it didn't.” He nods and when she starts to walk again, he follows without hesitation. “And yeah, I could definitely eat pie.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The first rundown meeting is, as she rightly predicted, made much more interesting by only the two of them knowing something has shifted, that everything has shifted, and more than once he has to remember to concentrate on what they're actually discussing rather than focusing solely on her. Right now, if he had his way, he'd let everyone else take care of the job in hand while he just spent the day staring at her, thinking about the feel of her legs wrapped around him, letting his mind drift to the past few days and reminding himself of just how damn lucky he is..._

“So, I was thinking...” She looks up from where she's scrolling through the emails on her phone and smiles at him, continuing when he nods. “We're going to the party on New Year's Eve, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, sitting on the couch to put his socks on. “And you never know, I might even enjoy it this year.”

“Whoa, steady on.” She grins and drops her phone into her bag, reaching for her lipstick and moving to the mirror in the hallway. “What do you say to us telling people at the party? About us, I mean, that we're together.”

“At the party?” For a second he's confused because he's lost sight of what day it is now, the way it often is at Christmas when days start to blend into one. “The party's...Saturday?”

“The party is Saturday,” she says, pausing to apply her lipstick, something he could watch forever, the way she steps closer to the mirror (because God forbid she puts her glasses on) and frowns slightly as she pouts. “Today is Wednesday. Don't you think it'd be nice, for it to be just our news for a couple of days before everybody else knows?”

“I hadn't really...” He thinks about it and realises he hadn't really considered it, he'd just made the assumption that as they're going back to work today, they'd tell the staff today. “I guess I just figured we'd tell them today, but if you don't want to, we-”

“That's not it at all.” She strides back across the room and sits down beside him, sliding her hand onto his leg and nudging his shoulder. “I just...these last few days have been so nice, just the two of us, no pressure, nobody else bothering us, and I want everyone to know, I really do, but there's just something so appealing about it being our secret for a couple of days. Think about it, Billy, we'll be sitting in the rundown meetings and nobody else will know we woke up together this morning, or how we worked up our appetites for pie on Christmas day, or that we did it under the Christmas tree yesterday-”

“We should totally do that again before the tree comes down.” He cuts in, grinning and finding her suggestion suddenly more appealing. “Absolutely not the point of this conversation, I know.”

“So, you're okay with it?” she asks, squeezing his thigh and smiling at him, the sweet, dazzling smile he missed almost more than he realised. “Making it official at the party? As far as everyone else is concerned, I mean. Obviously, it's already official for us...official seems like the wrong word, I don't...oh, I don't know what the right word is, but you know what I'm saying, right?”

“I'm okay with it,” he says, returning her smile and gently squeezing her hand.

*

The first rundown meeting is, as she rightly predicted, made much more interesting by only the two of them knowing something has shifted, that everything has shifted, and more than once he has to remember to concentrate on what they're actually discussing rather than focusing solely on her. Right now, if he had his way, he'd let everyone else take care of the job in hand while he just spent the day staring at her, thinking about the feel of her legs wrapped around him, letting his mind drift to the past few days and reminding himself of just how damn lucky he is...

“Will?” The amusement in her tone matches that in everyone else's eyes as he snaps back to reality and raises his brows, hoping whatever she just asked really doesn't desperately need an answer.

“Sorry...” He gives her a half smile and shakes his head slightly. “Yeah?”

“Never mind,” she says, glaring at him in what he takes to be a warning that he may have to atone for this later. “Maybe you can read over the first draft and raise any objections at the two o'clock meeting?”

“Sounds good.” He stands up, attempting an air of control and striving to ignore the looks of curiosity on the faces of the staff as he heads out of the room and back towards his office.

He's been at his desk for only a few minutes reading the notes she thrust into his hand as he left the meeting when he suddenly realises what he has to do and jumps back to his feet, throwing open his door and striding across the bullpen, needing to find her. He spots her at Neal's desk and he heads over to her, his hand moving to her shoulder before he even thinks about what he's doing. She doesn't flinch, and a glance at Neal makes it clear he either hasn't noticed, or if he has, he hasn't thought anything of it.

“Mac, do you have a couple of minutes?” he asks, when she turns to him with a raised eyebrow. “My office?”

“Sure, yeah, just give me a second to finish up here with Neal and I'll be right in,” she says, smiling and turning back to her conversation, which sounds suspiciously like it might end with another random pitch from Neal, but he'll leave that to her.

Back in his office he's hit with an unexpected bout of nerves, one which chooses to manifest itself in rendering him apparently unable to get the key into the lock on his desk drawer. Closing his eyes for a second, partly in an attempt to calm himself, partly in irritation, he opens them to see Mackenzie in front of him, arms folded, an inscrutable look on her face.

“Everything alright in here?” she asks, stepping closer and peering over his desk in curiosity.

“Yeah,” he says, automatically before he shakes his head. “No, actually, I can't get this damn key to-”

“Did you just call me in here because you needed help to open your drawer?” she asks, sliding her arms back into their folded position as she quirks an eyebrow at him.

“No, of course I didn't. I've got it, I do, I...” He stops as the key finally turns and he pulls open the drawer with a probably unnecessary flourish. “Shut the door!”

“Ooh!” Her eyes widen and she lowers her voice slightly and leans towards him. “Are we going to have a fake fight? Good idea, Billy, that wouldn't surprise anyone out there, not at all, what-”

“No, we're not going to fight, just...” He gestures frantically at the door, relieved when she heads towards it, even if it is accompanied by a roll of her eyes.

“Alright...” She walks back over to him and sighs faintly. “What is going on? You get me in here, you seem to be having some sort of tantrum because you can't open your desk drawer, you yell at me to shut the door, and I don't-”

“Yeah, I, um...” She's gone silent because somehow, despite his earlier fumbling, he has managed to get the ring out of his drawer, out of its box, and he's holding it up in front of her. “I sat down in here to look at the first rundown draft and I just realised that, shit, why the hell is this still sitting in my drawer when the only place I want it to be is on your finger. So, right, okay...I-”

“Yes. It's yes, of course it's yes!” She grins and he's aware he's gaping at her like a complete idiot.

“Wait, I haven't even...yes? You're...you're saying yes?” he asks, thankful because he hadn't really planned a speech, so no doubt it would have ended up a torrent of total babble, yet here she is, saving him from it.

“We spent the last three days talking about everything and you made it more than clear that this is permanent, that you want to be with me forever, and I made...or I hope I made the same thing clear to you...” She pauses and he nods, glancing briefly at the ring in his hand, and then back up at her. “So yes, absolutely yes.”

“Thank God.” He sighs and watches as she walks around the desk, perching on the corner in front of him and smiling, the wide, completely infectious smile that he can never resist and would never want to. “Although...”

“What?” She narrows her eyes but her smile is still in place. “Have you changed your mind already? Do I need to grab that ring out of your hand and run like hell?”

“As much as the thought of you tearing through the bullpen like you just pulled off the finest Tiffany heist in history is an...appealing one...” He smirks and she lets out a bubble of laughter. “No, what I was about to say is that this isn't exactly going to go unnoticed between now and the party on Saturday, that's all.”

“Mmm, you'd think, wouldn't you?” She smiles again and reaches around to the back of her neck, unclasping the chain she's wearing and holding it out in front of him. “Here, put it on here for now, and when we get home on Friday night you can make as big a spectacle as you like of putting it on my finger.”

“You really do think of everything, don't you?” He takes the ring and slides it carefully onto the chain, standing up and waiting for her to turn around so he can fasten it for her, taking the chance to stroke his fingers slowly across the back of her neck, smiling as he hears her catch her breath before she turns back to face him.

“God, it's beautiful,” she says, smoothing her thumb gently over the diamond before tucking the chain down under her shirt and glancing quickly over her shoulder at the door before leaning in and kissing him so quickly he barely has time to register her lips on his. “I love it.”

“I love you,” he says, fixing his gaze on hers and lacing his fingers in hers, squeezing softly before reluctantly pulling away.

“At least now I can just focus on finding a dress and shoes for Saturday.” She reaches for the chain again, her inability to resist another look at the ring making her determination to wait until the party to share the news even more impressive. “Along with the earrings you bought for me, this is going to be the only jewellery I'm ever going to need again.”

“Can I get that in writing?” He grins, knowing himself well enough to know he'll have to be dead before he stops buying jewellery for her.

“Not a chance.” She returns the grin and points at the draft on his desk. “I'll leave you to go over that, since you were in the room in spirit only for the actual meeting.”

“Fair point,” he says, watching as she heads for the door, his fiancee, finally.

*

He can't quite believe she talked him into going for a drink after the show, insisting that they really should put in an appearance for drinks, even if only for a half hour, trying to convince him it would look more suspicious if they didn't. He didn't believe that for a second, but damn, she's persuasive. So here they are, sitting at very deliberately opposite ends of a huge couch, Jim and Neal in between them, small talk about Christmas flying over his head as he concentrates on the drink in his hand, stealing the occasional longing glance in Mackenzie's direction. Conversation inevitably turns to the party on Saturday, he hears Maggie and Tess start to chat about dresses, he hears Neal telling Jim about his date, yet somehow he's caught completely off guard when someone (Martin, he thinks) asks if he's bringing Nina.

“What?” He tries to stall, realising that's exactly what it looks like he's doing so shrugging instead and taking a gulp of scotch so big it burns his throat on the way down. “No. I'm not bringing her, no...another drink, anyone?”

“I could use another,” Mackenzie says, smiling at him and standing up. “I'll give you a hand.”

When they reach the bar, he has to shove his hands firmly into his pockets to stop himself from reaching automatically for her, and she rests her elbows on the bar, he suspects for the same reason.

“I'm sorry,” she says, smiling sheepishly at him as they wait for the bartender's attention. “I know you wanted to head right home, but I just thought it might be nice to have a quick drink with everybody, you know...”

“It's fine,” he says, returning her smile. “Look, it was going to come up, I guess. As far as they all knew, I was dating Nina before Christmas so they have no reason to think that's no longer the case.”

“Well, you could tell them,” she says, and he hears something in her tone, something she also hears, if the instant biting of her lip is any indicator. “You could have said 'no, I won't be bringing Nina because we aren't together anymore'. Would that have been so difficult?”

“I don't know, I mean...” He pauses, trying to tread carefully, feeling a little like he's done something wrong but not really having a clue what it is. “I guess not, I-”

“Oh, this is stupid, Will, let's just...” She reaches for the chain around her neck, a frown on her face, and he grabs her arm to stop her. “They may as well just know now, you were right, I don't why I was so set on waiting until the party, it's silly-”

“No, it's not.” He doesn't give a shit if the whole bar is watching as he takes the chain and slides it back into her shirt, not missing the frown lifting from her face and the faint curve of a smile taking its place. “It's not silly, Mackenzie. Listen, it's nine-forty on Thursday night, meaning we made through two days of work already without anybody guessing, so we can sure as shit make it through one more, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so...” She pauses as Will puts in their order, pays up, and closes the tab, nodding his thanks when the bartender says he'll bring the drinks over. “We're leaving after this drink then?”

“I thought we should quit while we're just about ahead,” he says, the realisation hitting him that they haven't even considered an exit strategy. “Shit, how do we-”

“I'll finish my drink first, I'll do my finest fake yawning, and I'll make my excuses,” she says, the glint in her eyes reminding him of how much she's enjoying this still being their secret. “You give it a couple of minutes and do the same. The leaving, I mean, not necessarily the yawning...anyway, I'll wait for you outside, and if anyone should happen to leave after I go but before you do, I'll pretend I'm making a phone call. Easy.”

“You're wasted at ACN, you know.” He grins as she raises her eyebrows. “The CIA is crying out for people like you.”

“Oh, you may mock, but all I will say is that you're very lucky I like it so much at ACN,” she says, grinning back at him as she turns from the bar. “Alright, let's do this.”

*

He's just going over the final version of his script, making a few changes that he hopes Mackenzie won't notice but guesses she will, when Charlie appears in the doorway, a look in his eyes that Will recognises right away as one that means he's about to be subject to a grilling. Looking up at him, he raises his eyebrows, turning his attention back to his script when Charlie stares back but says nothing, suppressing a smile when he hears an impatient sigh.

“You know I have a show to do pretty soon, right?” He sits back in his chair and watches as Charlie moves closer to stand in front of his desk.

“I do know that,” Charlie says, looking at his watch and then back at him. “I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Alright,” he says, intrigued by the obvious curiosity in Charlie's eyes. “Well, go ahead. Like I said, I have a show to do so I don't-”

“You're going to the New Year's party tomorrow?” Charlie asks, smiling.

“Yep.” He nods, no idea where this is going, but guessing there's a reason for Charlie's interest. “You?”

“Oh you know me, I'll show up, say my hellos, drink some...” Charlie's smile widens, probably at the thought of the free bar, but he goes on. “And then I'll leave when it looks like the debauchery is about to begin.”

“Debauchery?” He raises an eyebrow, stalling in the hope that someone interrupts them or, even better, that Charlie forgets what he came in for. “It's the dullest party on earth. No offence.”

“None taken, it's not my shindig.” Charlie shrugs, no doubt well aware that Leona can throw a great party, she just chooses not to do it on New Year's Eve for her legions of underlings. “Anyway, are you bringing Nina? That's what I came in to ask.”

“Nope,” he says, knowing that's not going to be enough, so reluctantly elaborating. “Whatever that was is over, has been for a little while now.”

“So you're coming to the party alone?” Charlie quirks an eyebrow almost impressively high. “For the second year running. People will think the great lothario Will McAvoy has sworn off dating altogether.”

“You didn't ask if I was coming alone.” He smirks faintly and watches as Charlie lets out a sigh. “You asked if I was bringing Nina.”

“So you're not coming alone?” Charlie asks, his mounting frustration clear. “Well, who are you bringing? Is Mackenzie bringing someone or is she going to spend all evening moping into a drink just like you did last year when she brought whatshisname? I mean, come on, Will, for one night, couldn't you just-”

“Alright, stop.” He stands up and Charlie steps back, watching as he heads for the door, turning back as he reaches it. “Don't...just...wait right there.”

He tries her office but it's empty, and he wonders if he's going to have to head to the control room and somehow persuade her to come back to his office, all without the rest of the staff wondering what the hell is going on. She's not at Neal's desk, nor at Jim's, and when he sees Maggie walk across the room, he stops her so abruptly he makes her jump.

“Have you seen Mac?” he asks, sighing as she shakes her head.

“Um, I don't think so, she...” Maggie pauses and smiles, pointing over his shoulder. “Oh, she's right there.”

He turns to find that Maggie's right, Mackenzie is there, apparently having decided to use the wall as her table, despite being surrounded by desks and having an office of her own mere feet away. He watches her for a few seconds, grinning as she gets frustrated because her pen won't work (hardly a surprise given the angle she's on, notepad against the wall, pen almost upside down). Switching her pen for a pencil, she gives such a sweet smile of satisfaction that it takes all he has not to walk over, push her against the wall, and kiss the hell out of her, no matter who might be watching. Instead he takes a breath and steps up beside her, gently cupping her elbow, discreetly enough that he doubts anyone will notice.

“Can you...could you come with me, just for two minutes?” he asks, smiling when she nods and turns to follow his lead.

“Everything alright?” she asks, her slight frown lifting when he squeezes her arm and smiles as they head into his office, clearly surprised when she sees Charlie standing there.

“Okay, so...” He closes the door and turns back to where Charlie and Mackenzie look equally confused. “Charlie was asking about the party tomorrow, and I told him that I'm not bringing Nina, but that I'm also not coming alone.”

“Right...” She bites her lip and he thinks she's starting to see where he's going, that telling Charlie now just feels more right than at the party with everyone else. “So, does Charlie know who you are bringing?”

“Would one of you like to tell me what the fuck is going on here?” Charlie asks, his patience clearly exhausted.

“Show him.” He points to the chain around her neck, watching as her cheeks flush slightly and a smile creeps onto her lips.

“Oh, this, you mean?” She pulls the chain out from under her shirt, the diamond engagement ring impossible to miss as she holds it up in front of Charlie.

“Wait, is this...” Charlie steps closer, his eyes wide as he looks at the ring. “Is that what I think it is? And if it is, then what the hell is it doing hidden down your damn shirt?!”

“It is what you think it is, and we're telling everyone tomorrow at the party,” Mackenzie says, her smile growing wider as Charlie grins at her, then looks at him in disbelief.

“When the hell did this happen, and how the hell did I miss it?” Charlie almost gapes at them, and he watches as Mackenzie fails to hold back a giggle.

“Christmas Eve,” he says, moving to stand next to Mackenzie so he can slide his arm around her waist, smiling when she looks up at him. “I went for a walk, Mac went for a walk, we both headed for the same place, and, you know, I-”

“You finally grew a brain and realised this woman here is the only one for you and always has been?” Charlie looks delighted, his grin wide and bright, and he's glad they didn't wait for the party to share this with him.

“Something like that, yeah.” He shrugs, because Charlie's assessment is so right that he wouldn't dream of disagreeing.

“Well, I think I can confidently say I've ever been more glad I dragged you up here from DC,” Charlie says, pulling Mackenzie into a tight hug and kissing her on the cheek before he pulls back.

“I'd have to say I'm glad you did too,” she says, her eyes bright and a smile on her lips. 

“And as for _you_...well, I figured it'd be at least another year before you came to your senses. Sometimes it's nice to be wrong.” It's his turn to be hugged as Charlie grabs him and pats him solidly on the back. “Alright, you two kids have a show to do, and I have a bottle of scotch to crack open. I'll see you at the party tomorrow.”

He watches Charlie head out across the bullpen, a notable spring in his step that makes him happy, makes him glad they told him tonight. Mackenzie's hand slides into his and when he turns to her he sees the look in her eyes he hopes he's going to see every day for the rest of his life; it's a look of peace, of blissful happiness, and it's beautiful.

“That was a good call, Billy, telling him tonight,” she says, squeezing his fingers and sliding her hand slowly out of his. “Okay, I need to get to the control room.”

“Alright.” He runs his fingers slowly down the side of her neck and tucks the chain down into her shirt, smiling as he strokes his thumb across her collarbone. “You know, my suit for tonight will be here soon...”

“Oh don't worry...” She leans up and plants a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth, a kiss that feels like a tiny promise for later. “I won't let you try and figure out a Windsor knot all by yourself. I'll be back before the show.”

*

“Do I look like I'm wearing too much make-up?” She walks in and his jaw almost drops because no matter how much make-up she may think she has on she looks beyond beautiful, she's a total vision.

"If I'm honest, I don't really know what that means, too much make up...” He stops and walks over to her, slowly so he can look at her properly as he approaches, smiling as he gets to her. “I do know you look amazing tonight, if that helps?”

“I'm not sure it helps, exactly, but it's nice to hear,” she says, reaching up and tweaking his bow tie, a playful smile on her lips. “You scrub up pretty well yourself, you know. You always look so sexy in a tux.”

He smiles back at her, squirming slightly under her compliment, choosing to focus on her standing in front of him as his fiancee, and knowing without a shadow of a doubt that she's going to be the most beautiful woman at the party. Her hair is curled the way it was on Christmas Day, her dress is silver, made of some sort of shimmering fabric that flatters every curve, and the shoes she's wearing somehow make her legs look longer than ever. She's wearing the earrings he bought for her, and the lack of a necklace reminds him that the ring she's had around her neck this week has finally made it to her finger, exactly where it should be.

“So...” He rests his hands on her shoulders and rubs his thumbs across her skin in small circles, still unable to get enough of the feel of her under his touch. “Are we good to go?”

“I think so.” She nods and he squeezes her shoulders gently before he steps back to reach for their coats.

“You know we're not going to need to say a damn thing, don't you?” She slides her arms into the coat he's holding out for her, smiling her thanks.

“What do you mean?” he asks, guessing she's referring to their plans to tell the staff tonight, but not sure what she's saying exactly.

“This right here.” She holds her hand up, wiggling her fingers and grinning. “This is going to do a perfectly fine job of announcing itself, the only question really is which of our eagle eyed staff will be the first to notice it.”

“Sloan,” he says, instantly. “She may be clueless about these things most of the time, but she's been on vacation, she's had ten days on a beach, she's going to come back as sharp as a tack. I'm not sure she'd notice it on anyone else's finger but I'm damn sure she'll notice it on yours pretty fucking quickly.”

“Alright, you say Sloan, I'm going go for...” She grins at him and waits as he puts his coat on before reaching for her keys and nudging him towards the door. “Jim.”

“Jim?” He pulls a face, and she laughs as they step into the hallway and start to head down the stairs. “Seriously?”

“I know you don't think so, but he's pretty astute, you know.” She raises an eyebrow and he shrugs. “He only bumbles a little around you because you intimidate him. Anyway, he knows me better than any of the others and you called him on Christmas Eve, in case you've forgotten. If he can't put two and two together here and come up with four, he really shouldn't be a journalist.”

“I intimidate him?” He genuinely wonders sometimes what it is about him that inspires a certain level of fear in some people.

“By all means, feel free to get stuck on that part of the sentence.” They reach the street and she rolls her eyes, pointing at what she thinks is their car, moving towards it when he nods. “I'm not saying you're generally intimidating, just that when you bark at the staff some of them find it more unnerving than others.”

“I should work on that, right?” He doesn't actually think she was suggesting that but still...he doesn't feel entirely comfortable knowing he's possibly terrifying their staff.

“That's not what I was saying,” she says, pausing and smiling at him as he opens the car door for her, not even the tiniest bit disappointed by the glimpse of her long legs as she climbs in. “Everyone's different, you know that. Sloan doesn't find you intimidating, or Don, or Kendra-”

“I doubt Kendra finds anyone in the world intimidating,” he says, reaching for her hand and clasping it in his own.

“That's true.” She nods and squeezes his fingers, smiling when he looks at her. “Anyway, the point of this conversation was that you think Sloan will notice first and I think it'll be Jim. Want to make this interesting?”

“What do you have in mind?” He smirks and wonders what he's about to get himself into.

“Okay...” She sighs and a faint frown crosses her face as she thinks. “If I'm right, you can't complain about being at the party until I'm ready to leave, not even once. No grumbling an hour after we arrive about how you'd rather spend the evening anywhere but there, no disappearing off to hide in your office instead of talking to people, and-”

“Deal.” He stops her, smirking at the surprised look on her face, aware that she most likely has no idea that because he has her with him, he's actually not dreading the party at all. “And if _I'm_ right?”

“Sloan, Will? Seriously?” She grins and he shrugs, waiting for her response. “Alright...if by some peculiar twist of fate you _are_ right...well, I guess that's up to you. What do you want from me if I lose this little contest?”

“We take a week off at the end of January, we go somewhere quiet, somewhere warm, and you don't even try to protest that we're too busy,” he says, watching as she appears to consider raising a protest, but says nothing. “We are busy, I know that, but we're not too busy to take a few days off. I doubt either of us has taken a week off in...well, in way too long.”

“End of January? Somewhere warm? Do I get a say in where we go?” There's a hint of a frown on her face but he hears a definite trace of excitement in her tone, so he nods and her frown is replaced by a smile. “Okay then. Deal.”

He reluctantly lets her pull her hand from his as they get closer to the office, consoling himself by watching as she pulls out her compact and re-applies her lipstick, a dark pink that probably has a name, and is probably the exact shade she knew would complement her silver dress. All he knows is that whatever it's called it looks as sexy as hell on her.

In the elevator he takes her hand again and she smiles at him, squeezing his fingers and refusing to let go until the very second before the doors open and they have to step out. He relaxes when he sees the party in full swing, and when he spots a handful of staff members he wonders briefly if anyone will notice they've arrived together before realising almost immediately that their few days of keeping it a secret are over so other than for the purposes of their wager, it doesn't matter who the hell notices. He begins to rethink that logic as soon as he sees Leona heading their way, dressed to the nines, a drink in her hand that he suspects is far from her first of the evening, and her characteristic smirk on her face as her eyes settle on Mackenzie.

“Well, well...” She pauses and gives Mackenzie a long, sweeping look, starting at her shoes and working up to her dress, narrowing her eyes and taking a sip of her champagne before she continues. “I don't know if this one here will have dared to comment, even though there's not a chance in hell he hasn't noticed, but that is quite the dress, Mac. You look fucking fantastic.”

“Thanks, yeah, I, um...you know, new year, new dress.” Mackenzie smiles, self-consciously pushing her hair behind her ear. “You look amazing, as ever.”

“Oh, I know, and if anyone shows up tonight other than the Newsnight staff, who are all twelve years old, frankly, then you and I are looking hot enough that we're going to be fighting off a veritable fucking herd of sexy bachelors.” Leona grins and turns to him, prodding him hard in the chest. “If you're planning to see sense and make your move, I'd do it sooner rather than later.”

He hears Mackenzie snort as Leona turns and strides across the room, no doubt in search of a new victim to torture. Or a drink, she could just be in search of another drink. He's about to suggest to Mackenzie that they get a drink when Martin appears in front of them, a wide smile on his face and his eyes flitting from his face to Mackenzie's, and up above their heads.

“So, I think it's the law that when two people find themselves under the mistletoe that they have to kiss,” Martin says, pointing up to where a glance tells him there's a strategically placed sprig of mistletoe hanging over them.

“I think it would be inappropriate for Mackenzie to kiss you, Martin,” he says, hearing yet another snort from beside him. “And you're really not my type, so...”

“Hmm, I think _maybe_ he was suggesting it's you and I who should take advantage of the mistletoe,” Mackenzie says, looking up at him, capturing her bottom lip between her teeth before slowly releasing it and smiling at him. “I mean, it is still the holidays, and all, and I think Martin's right, it's the law or something, or at the very least it's probably terribly bad luck to stand under the mistletoe and not kiss, and I know how superstitious you are.”

“If the next year goes to shit, am I going to take the rap for it if I don't obey this imaginary mistletoe law?” he asks, knowing what she's doing and gladly playing along if it means they can make their announcement with a kiss under the mistletoe rather than him babbling awkwardly.

“I can't rule that out.” She shrugs and aims an exaggerated pout up at him, sighing dramatically. “I mean, I know kissing me is probably the worst thing you could possibly imagine, but in the spirit of Christmas, would a peck on the cheek be so terribly painful?”

“If it's going to save us from the worst year ever _and_ keep Martin happy, then fine.” He tries to sound reluctant, aiming for a tone of mild irritation which he's fairly sure he's not even close to pulling off.

Looking up once again at the mistletoe and wondering how much more of it has been placed around the bullpen he leans down and runs his lips over Mackenzie's cheekbone, a soft touch that's more than a peck, less than a kiss. He can almost hear Martin about to complain about his lack of enthusiasm, so he decides to annoy him just a little more, pulling back and raising an eyebrow before moving to Mackenzie's other cheek and kissing her again, this time aiming for the corner of her mouth, her warm, soft lips coming tantalisingly close. It's the tiny sigh she lets out that slays him, a soft sound of yearning exasperation. Sliding his finger up her neck, he tilts her face up to him, watching as her eyes widen and she swallows hard.

And then he kisses her. His lips cover hers, his hand moves from under her chin so his fingers can slip gently into her hair, and despite being almost completely lost in her he's aware of a change in the room, a quiet that's completely unnatural for a party. He thinks she senses the change too, because she pushes herself tighter against him and her arms move from where they were resting gently at his waist, weaving around his neck, her fingertips pushed into his hair. When they pull apart she grins at him and opens her mouth to say something, but Martin shakes himself out of his stunned silence and speaks before either of them can.

“Wait, is that...” Martin stops, steps closer, his mouth open as he stares at them before his gaze shifts to Mackenzie's left hand. “Are you two...I mean, that looks like-”

“It looks like a fucking big diamond from where I'm standing!” Sloan appears almost from nowwhere and grabs Mackenzie's hand, lifting it up and raising her eyebrows as she looks at the ring, then between the two of them. “Is this what it looks like?”

“It is indeed a fucking big diamond, as you so eloquently described it,” Mackenzie says, smirking and pulling her hand back out of Sloan's grasp. “Happy New Year, by the way. How was your trip?”

“It was great, actually, I really should get away more often, it was...but wait, holy shit, never mind my trip!” Sloan shakes her head, at her own momentary distraction, he thinks. “You're engaged?”

“It would appear that I am.” Mackenzie nods and he feels her hand slide into his, aware that there is suddenly a small crowd of people moving closer to where they're standing.

“To Will?” Sloan seems to have slipped into some kind of shock, and God help him he's enjoying it. “You're engaged to Will?!”

“Good God, Sloan, do I need to fetch the smelling salts?” Mackenzie laughs, clearly enjoying it too. “Yes, I'm engaged. To Will. Will McAvoy. He's the one standing right here.”

“Damn, I know I just said you should stop wasting time, but I have no idea how you conjured up a ring quite that fucking fast!” Leona's unmistakable voice rings out and he turns to see her standing there with a wide and slightly smug smile on her face. “Nice work, McAvoy. Best thing you've done all year.”

She saunters away and he looks up to see Charlie heading towards them, a glass of champagne in each hand. Handing them over, he grins and leans in to kiss Mackenzie on the cheek, squeezing her elbow before turning to slap him on the back.

“Congratulations again and thank God you got this little announcement in early,” Charlie says, sighing in what sounds like relief. “I was scared to drink too much in case it slipped out. Now I can go drink as much as I like.”

“Alright, if I'm going to try to process this, I'm going to need more information.” Sloan speaks up and he knows she's going to have a list of questions that he's going to have to shut down at some point. “When the hell did this happen? I mean, I know I'm clueless about a lot of things but I'm pretty sure I'd have had some idea if you two had gotten back together, not to mention that when I left to go on vacation one of you was dating someone else, and seriously-”

“Oh my God, Sloan, I thought he was bad at parties but he's in danger of losing his title tonight.” Mackenzie takes a breath and he feels her fingers tangling tighter within his. “At some point you and I will go for coffee and you can pull out your giant list of questions, but tonight we're going to try to enjoy this party, so all you're getting for now is that we got back together on Christmas Eve and we got engaged three days ago. We were planning to tell everyone tonight but thanks to Martin kindly pointing out the mistletoe we just happened to be standing under, we no longer need to make an announcement, so we can all just drink and have a nice evening instead.”

“Dammit, Kenzie, it's just so...” Sloan throws her hands up in frustration at whatever it is she's trying to say. “I was about to say fast but it's actually taken you a hundred years to work out your shit, so I guess fast isn't exactly the right word, but still...fuck, I can't believe I haven't even said congratulations-”

“You still could...” He interjects, keen to stop her before it becomes clear she may never actually stop talking.

“I'm getting there,” Sloan says, frowning at him and turning to smile at Mackenzie. “Congratulations, both of you, it's about damn time. Now, I know you said I need to go away and think about my questions, get them written down in an organised list, but-”

“So not what I said.” Mackenzie stops her with a smirk. “But thank you.”

“I have one question, just one, I swear,” Sloan says, taking a gulp from her glass. “And then I won't ask another thing all night.”

“Alright, one question, go,” Mackenzie says, leaning against him as she takes a sip of her own drink.

“When's the wedding?” Sloan asks, a glint in her eye that suggests she's hoping to be a bridesmaid, and that makes him realise there's a good chance, with Mackenzie's sisters and his, they'll need to get married in a cathedral just to fit all the damn bridesmaids in.

“June,” he answers, surprised when Mackenzie turns to him, looking slightly taken aback. “What?”

“Well, unless I was sleeping and totally missed it, we haven't talked about dates yet,” she says, a flicker of a smile on her lips.

“Not this time, no,” he says, running his thumb across her hand, smiling back at her. “But you always said you wanted to be a June bride. I mean, it doesn't have to be June, it can be whenever you want it to be.”

“No, June's perfect. I _have_ always wanted to be a June bride.” Her smile gets bigger and there's a sparkle in her eyes that somehow makes her look even more beautiful than usual. “I just didn't expect you to remember I ever told you that, that's all.”

“I remember the stuff that matters to you.” It's true, he may zone out sometimes when people are talking about shit that's irrelevant but he knows what's important to her, and he's never forgotten her telling him that she's always wanted to get married in June.

“You know, I feel like I fell down a wormhole and landed in a parallel universe,” Sloan says, grinning before she finishes the last of her drink. “I like it, and I'm going to get another drink.”

“So...” he says, watching as Sloan walks away and appreciating that for the moment nobody else is here and peppering them with questions. “We were both way off. Never in a million years would I have bet on Martin being the first to guess.”

“Not a chance,” she says, turning and pressing herself against his chest as he slides his arm around her. “Sloan was mere seconds behind him though, and in fact she may have been the one who actually spoke the guess out loud. I'm amazed you're not claiming this one.”

“I'm amazed you seem to be pushing me to claim it.” He runs his hand down her back, knowing that whether he won their bet or not, she most certainly didn't, meaning she can't hold him to sticking it out to the end of the party if he decides he'd prefer to talk her into marking the new year at home, alone and hopefully naked.

“I'm not pushing you to claim it, but, you know, if you _did_ decide to fight me on it...” She leans up and kisses him before murmuring softly in his ear. “I wouldn't object to that week in the sun.”

*

Surprisingly, he finds himself enjoying the party, and everyone else seems to be having a good time too, Mackenzie included. She even manages to persuade him to dance, and he has to admit he enjoys that too, in no small part due to having her in his arms. Through the evening people wander over, eyes bright, smiles wide, excited to congratulate them, and trying hard to hide their obvious amazement at the news. He finds himself able to steal a few minutes alone, so he stands back against a wall with a drink in his hand, taking the time to just observe. He sees Mackenzie talking first to Maggie, then to Don, before she moves onto a conversation with Jim that ends with a hug, and he can almost feel how happy she is even though she's halfway across the room. Her happiness is infectious too, he feels lighter, calmer, knowing he's a better man when he's with her, because she makes him want to be.

When she finishes chatting and starts to scan the room, he knows she's looking for him, and he knows too the exact second she spots him because her smile lights up her face, and he remembers the pure joy that comes with being on the receiving end of that smile.

Her smile, her touch, her genuine happiness at being at the party with him means he doesn't give another thought to leaving early, and before he knows it it's almost midnight. She's beside him, his arm is around her, she's leaning against him and her hand is firmly on his chest, and in that moment he thinks he could stand here with her forever.

“It's almost midnight, Billy.” Her voice is quiet and her fingers slide further inside his jacket. “I can't quite believe we're here.”

“Pretty sure we're contractually obliged to be here,” he replies, smiling when he feels her hand tap his chest in response. “I know, it's not how I saw this year ending either.”

“I'd planned to call Charlie and tell him I had a migraine so I wouldn't be able to make it,” she says, not sounding sad, in spite of what she's telling him. “I thought you'd be bringing Nina and I just didn't think I could...no, that's not true, I _could_ have handled it, I just didn't want to.”

“You can handle anything,” he says, hoping to lighten the mood before he finds himself overcome with guilt all over again, about Nina, about everything he wishes he'd done differently over the last year and a half.

“Well, almost anything.” He hears the smile in her tone and he moves his hand lower down her back, the fabric of her dress soft and silky under his touch.

“I always find the countdown to midnight at new year so strange, don't you?” she asks, her tone filled with curiosity as she goes on, not waiting for a response. “I mean, midnight comes once every twenty-four hours and it mostly goes unnoticed, yet on the last day of December everyone goes nuts, all because Julius Caesar decided it should be that way.”

“I can't say I've ever thought about it in that much detail,” he says, shrugging and pulling her closer to him.

“That's because you're usually too busy trying to escape whichever party you're contractually obliged to attend.” She looks up at him and smiles, letting him know she's teasing, even if she has hit the nail right on the head. “I consider it quite an achievement on my part that we're a minute from midnight and you're still here.”

“Oh, it's a _huge_ achievement.” He leans in and rubs his nose against hers and in the background he hears the start of the countdown so he pulls back just enough to be able to look at her, his eyes fixed on hers. “Three, two...”

“One...” She finishes the countdown and smiles as her lips move towards his. “Happy New Year, Billy.”


End file.
